


Winter Might Not Be So Bad After All

by overused_underrated



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Annoyed Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cold Weather, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Couch Cuddles, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Winter, falling from grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:54:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overused_underrated/pseuds/overused_underrated
Summary: NaNoWriMo - Day 11Winter is not kind to those who are part cold-blooded. Crowley was no exception.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 108





	Winter Might Not Be So Bad After All

“Snow is the devil’s work, Angel. Trust me, I would know…” Crowley hissed. The demon wasn’t fond of the winter. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes on the window. Crowley threw his head back in anger and annoyance before slumping onto the couch. He grabbed the blanket above him and wrapped it around himself. “Ssstupid snow…’s all too cold.”

Crowley despised the cold. He was part snake- a cold blooded creature. Winter was torture! Every day is absolutely freezing, it gets dark way too early, and everything gets wet. Your jacket, gloves, hat, scarf, and your shoes! It was unbearable.

The cold wasn’t the only reason why Crowley hated winter. The wind brought painful memories with it. After he fell, Crowley remembered sitting in a pile of soot. Ash floated all around him, as his former wings burned around him. All of Her love slowly drained from him, leaving him frigid and alone. He watched in painful agony, like a figure in a snow globe. The smell left the taste of sulfur burning in the back of his throat. 

Hell was either burning hot or freezing cold, depending on the day. Despite all the demons crammed into his department, Crowley always seemed to be working in the arctic. He loathed every second downstairs. Shortly before Crowley helped Cleveland get re-elected, he found a man in Jersey who helped change his life; this gentleman invented, what we know today as, hothands. Crowley would wear up to ten hand warmers during his office visits to keep himself from freezing to discorporation. (He, on those days, looked very much like a maniac trying to quit a _deadly_ smoking habit)

Between the inappropriate temperatures, the constant wetness all around, and the painful reminder of his lowest moment, Crowley wanted nothing more than to sleep through the season. The demon mumbled and grumbled under the blanket, a few hisses sneaking out. Aziraphale left his post at the window and gingerly sat next to Crowley, gently pulling him into his arms. The angel miracled fresh cups of hot cocoa on the table before them; Aziraphale hummed, ever so softly, as he gently warmed his shivering serpent. Crowley slowly began to relax and unwind at his angel’s behest, easing himself into a quiet calm. This was new. This was lovely.  _ I could get used to this... _

Winter might not be so bad after all. 


End file.
